Hats with a Red Feather
by Alexandria Biast
Summary: Gabriele Sallow loved to drink, fight, have fun and play with guns. The only problem was that Gabriele was female. Since this was a sexist society, she used Gabriel Sallow, a nickname, to persuade the men to think before they judge. She wasn't scared of getting what she wanted, even if she settled her eyes on a striking set of cheekbones that belong to Tommy Shelby.


The gangs around me were part of my daily life. Everywhere I went, I recognised the little telltale signs. I could feel the thrill of danger as I passed them, they saw me as one of their own. They considered me a valuable member of society, a member of the normal world and the Underworld.

Gangs and groups followed after the top dog, whoever held the most power and influence. I may have been female, inferior in their eyes, but I had a little trick, a facade one could call it.

I came into the dismal little bar, The Garrison, with a rosy pink dress and black bag. It was mostly made of wood and held a dozen or so tables. Not too shabby but I had seen better. It had a certain charm to it.

"Are you Mr Harry Fenton?" I asked the man cleaning the floor, his mop stopped as he turned to me.

"What is it to someone like you?" He took a puff of his disgusting cigarette.

"Answer my question," I already knew who he was, I simply liked to make them guess themselves or annoy them. "Then I may answer yours."

"Yeah, I am him," He continued with his mopping, keeping his eyes on me.

"I am here for the barmaid opening," I pulled yesterday's newspaper out of my black bag. "And before you saw it is filled, or that I do not belong in such a position. I rather you consider before you judge."

"Alright," He said, putting both hands on the tip of his mop. "Why d'you want the job anyway? You look like a nice enough girl, good enough to be working a prissy mansion."

"Well, I recently moved here and I want to get a job, and since I like to drink," I shrugged and smiled lightly. "This would be the best place to work. I am a people person. And even you would know that men can't help but be attracted to a pretty face, it'll allow more money to flow than if you did not hire me"

"Alright, fine. You've got a good point," He said. "When can you start?"

"Tonight. I love to drink, I know my way around a bar," I smiled and batted my lashes.

Eventual I was on bar duty. I had my favourite red shirt tucked into a black skirt with black heels. I left my ash brown hair loose, it hung down my back to below my shoulder blades. Of course, I had to look nice and presentable. I even put a dab on lipstick on.

The first lot of men were groggy and tired looking. They asked for pints, I brought them over and left. They were not interesting to me in the least. They left soon after finishing. I went to clean their pint glasses when I felt a hand on my arse.

"Get your hands off my arse unless you want to lose it," I did not even look up, picking the glasses and placing them on the tray. "I said, stop touching me. And that means now."

"Na, sweetheart, yer too sweet," The man said. He removed his hand, only to try and grab me by the waist.

I placed the tray down, my hand trailed to my waistband, the little bulge at the side indicated where I hid my weapon. Quickly taking it out, I pulled the pocket knife to his throat, right against his jugular.

He started sweating bullets.

Pathetic.

"S-sorry, I won't do that again!" He held his hands out. His mates were distracted earlier but now focused on us. They laughed at his misfortune.

"That's what a 'irl should do," One said, elbowing another in the ribs. "I'll be teachin' my eldest that."

The other two chuckled as one of their mates had a knife to his throat.

"I could easily kill you in this position, you do know that?" I said, gently pushing it against his skin, not enough to cut him though. My tone was dark and intimidating by his reaction.

"Y-yes,"

"Good," I stood up straight and pocketed the knife, I took the tray from the table. "Now don't try that with me again and we'll be dandy, okay? Good."

"Now that's a girl who knows what's what," A man, I presumed to be Arther Shelby by pictures and intel I gathered, said and came up to the bar. "So what's someone like you doing in a place like this?"

"Well, it's a bar, is it not?" I cleaned a glass and then another. "I would be drinkin', but that's against the rules while working."

"Shame. I didn't think you would be the type to drink," He said. He also had the habit of smoking.

"Oh, I can out-drink most of the men here. I know my way around alcohol,"

"What's this about out-drinkin' us?" Another Shelby came, John. "What's someone like you doing here?"

"Serving gentlemen drinks, but seems like there isn't any left," I chuckled lightly, it made them smile a little. Charm was an easy thing to use. "Well, what is it you want to drink?"

"Whiskey," The younger Shelby said.

"Make that two," Arther said.

"Okay," I turned away, taking the bottle and two glasses, pouring the contents gracefully. "Here, hard day?"

They shrugged.

"You haven't told us your name, flower. Com' on we want to know what this beautiful creature is called,"

"You can call me Bree," I said, pouring a glass for a man a few tables away and then came back. They watched as I moved. "You don't need to tell me who you two are. Arther and John Shelby, correct?"

"How d'you know?"

"I'm from a little town full of people like yourselves, I know my way around a place like this," They almost raised their eyebrows, I chuckled in mirth to calm their curiosity. "I've been brought up right, even if the people around me weren't sound in the head, or in business."

A man, who I could say was handsome and dashing in my opinion, burst the doors open with a slight snarl. "Arther, John. Now."  
Heavens above, that voice could make the Angels melt. That was if I believe in such rubbish.

I continued to serve the patrons of the bar, several pints here, vodka there. It was not hard, pleasant actually since I got to speak with different people. We had a good laugh when the man, the one who dared to touch me, refused to look at me and only used polite language as I approached. Every time I moved suddenly, this man flinched lightly.

Quite pathetic.

A young lad came in, one of my own with a little red feather in his belt. He handed me a little note, scrawled on it was a message.

_Oldest Shelby injured._

I stuffed the note into the layer between my undershirt and bra.

"Bree, come here for a second," Harry waved me over from the table to the bar. He leaned down lightly, almost whispering in my ear. "You've got to be careful with the Shelbys, if one of them wants you, well, no one can do anything about it. You're a nice girl, you don't want to be tangled up with them."

"You really believe that?" I said, whispering back. "You do not even know who I am. Not even my last name. I can very well handle whatever they try. Do not worry about me, Harry."

"Where's ma fucking beer?"

I jutted around to see the man that yelled. "You'll get ya fuckin' beer when I say ya can have it. Swear at me again, and I'll fuckin' cut you off earl'."

"Alright, Bree," Harry said. "Your last name ain't my business, but now you've got my attention. So, what is it?"

"Well, now it wouldn't be a surprise, would it?" I said the little window door to the side opened. "Sallow."

I left him in slight shock.

"I need a bottle of rum." Thomas Shelby said from the window.

"Alright," I pulled a rum off the shelf and placed it in front of him. "To drown your sorrows, or is it a wound?"

"I might be just drinking…. How'd you know?"

"Little bit of a dash of blood on your shirt, Mr Shelby," I pointed to the large splodge on his sleeve. "You aren't injured and that blood is extremely fresh. Anyone you know need a nurse?"

"Yeah, probably," He picked his hat off the bar and took the rum, jutting his, well defined, chin at Harry. "I'm taking her for a bit, she'll be safe. Take her shift."

"Right, Mr Shelby."

"How the fuck did you know who I was?" He held the bottle under his arm as he lit his cigarette. "I haven't seen you before, nor has Arther or John."

"I'm new, recently moved to this little dump of a city." I moved away as the wind picked up the smoke, blowing it towards me.

"So, what's your name then," He asked, tapping the dead ash off his cigarette. "You know who I am."

"Bree," I didn't continue.

"Bree what?" His eyes were dark under his hat, the light caught the shine of the razor in the peak. "Sallow. I didn't know Gabriel had a sister."

"Yes, Sallow. Gabriel is…." I lied for the next part. I didn't want to reveal my little trick too soon. "My twin. I help out with the family business."

It didn't take too long for us to arrive at Number 4 Watery Lane, he shoved past people and I glared at them to try and shove me.

"Let me see him. Here." He gave me the bottle. "Fix him."

My informant was correct, Arther Shelby was indeed injured. Blood everywhere and a deep gash on his forehead, near his eyebrow line.

"Thank Gods that I came." I twisted his head to the side and back again, inspecting the wound. "Alright, you need stitches and from what I overhead, sorry about that Mrs Gray and Ms Shelby, you have no one that can do them but me. Can someone open the rum for me?"

"Here," Ada Shelby opened it and then passed it without hesitation.

"Thanks, Dolls," She tutted at my little nickname, it infuriated her to be looked down on. Much like me. "Now, Arther, this is gonna hurt like a bitch."

I took the rag, dumped some rum into it and dabbed the blood away. He withered slightly in pain, it made me chuckle a little. He had a glare that held no heat.

"Ms Shelby, can you get me a needle and thread please?" I waited for them, when I had them, I bent over Arther slightly. This made him chuckle and blush. "This is the only time you'll see me like this, don't get used to it."

I pulled the needle through his skin and he jolted, making me flinch in response. I huffed. "Oi, you two," I said to John and Thomas. "Hold 'im while I stitch 'im up, otherwise it'll heal wrong."

Thomas held his shoulders while John held his head. It didn't take as long as I thought it would. Sadly I got blood on my already redshirt. It wouldn't take too long to clear up and then return home.

"Come on, girlie," Mrs Polly Gray shuffled me away from the men and towards the kitchen area. "You've got blood on your arms and shirt."

"Yeah, I know," I began to scrub the caked blood off my arms and hands. "How's it been, Polly? Good, I hope."

"It's good to have my boys back," She handed me soap. "Use that. Good to get rid of the blood. So, how's the business, Gabriele?"

Pronounced Gabrielle, I always knocked an E off to make it look more masculine.  
My real name was Gabriele Sallow, or in the business world, Gabriel Sallow of the Shallow Serpents.


End file.
